


R.E. 202

by neutrinobomb



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bad showcase of the music process, Minor Character Death, Multi, Nerds being rockstars, Sex, Younger shermie, fight, rocker!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 16:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11786715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neutrinobomb/pseuds/neutrinobomb
Summary: Got a fic bug in my head that wouldn't leave me alone. FiddleStanFord Rocker!AU. The songs used in this fic are real songs from four different bands. Lyrics only so that they could 'plausibly' be from the same group.





	1. Perfect Storm

The Shack was a mess after Bill’s rampage through Gravity Falls. Ford and Dipper had taken to calling it the “Weirdmaggedon”. Whatever, Stan thought. It worked to describe it pretty well. With Manly Dan’s help the Shack had been rebuilt structurally. Now the four Pines were busy going through their possessions that had survived storage in the basement and cleaning up.

Mabel was half-buried in a box of Ford’s things. She seemed to be more interested in what she was finding than actually putting it away. She had been digging through that box for a while though and Mabel finally resurfaced with something clasped in her hands.

“Hey, what’s this?!” She blew off some dust and squinted at what she was holding. “R.E. 202? Is this an album? It looks like an album!”

Stan and Ford both turned to look with the same wide-eyed expression. Dipper joined his sister and took one of the albums from her.

“R.E. 202? That’s the band name, Mabel. See?” He wiped a bit more dust off and pointed at the rest of the writing on the album cover. “This one’s “Final Breath”.”

Mabel had already dunked herself back in the box and came out with three more albums. “There’s more~!”

“K-Kids, we’re supposed to be putting stuff away,” Ford tried but Mabel and Dipper were suddenly interested in these new, weird albums.

“Here, this one looks like the oldest. “Perfect Storm”,” Dipper read off as he started to try to arrange the albums by release order without actually knowing the dates. That one though, Stan and Ford knew he got right.

“Then this one?” Mabel suggested. “Chaos Theory”.”

“Close,” Stan muttered.

Dipper heard the mumble and looked up at his grunkles. “These are yours. One of you should know the right order. And who this band is and why they use such weird album covers.”

Ford huffed but he took the albums from the kids and laid them out in order. “Here. “Perfect Storm”, “Battle Grounds”, “Chaos Theory”, and then…“Final Breath”.”

Mabel grinned as she looked at them. Grunkle Ford had wiped off most of the dust and the weird cover art Dipper mentioned was revealed. There were no images of the band members. Instead it seemed to be some sort of art made with science. Perfect Storm had a galaxy on it while Chaos Theory had a geometric design. Battle Grounds had a version of Da Vinci’s perfect man and Final Breath had chemical structures.

“You’re right Dip-Dip, this art is weird,” Mabel said with a giggle.

“It is not,” Stan said a bit too loudly. The other three looked up at him and his cheeks tinged a bit red. “What?”

“Nothing just…you seem a little too attached…” Dipper suggested.

“Yeah, and these were in Ford’s things, not yours,” Mabel pointed out.

Ford cleared his throat to get the twins’ attention and turned the first album over. Besides the song list there were other little paragraphs of writing. He pointed at one about halfway down. The kids leaned closer and their eyes widened.

“Lead singer and guitar: Stanley Pines, Bass and backup vocals: Fiddleford McGucket, Drums and backup vocals: Stanford Pines.”

Dipper and Mabel looked up at them with shocked faces. Dipper’s slowly faded into an amazed grin and Mabel ended up with the largest smile and squealed.

“You guys were in a rock band?!”

Ford shrugged. “It wasn’t a great as-”

Stanley grinned at how much the twins were enjoying this and he smacked his brother’s shoulder. “Come off it, Sixer, it was great!”

Mabel took the album from Ford and carefully pulled the vinyl out. “So cool! Grandpa Shermie has some records too! We used to listen to them when we visited!”

Dipper snorted. “Not any cool records like these.” Stan and Ford shared a look at that but the twins got their attention quickly.

“Is there a player?! Can we listen to it?!” Mabel asked excitedly.

Ford frowned a little and looked around. “There was a record player here somewhere…where’d we put it?”

Stanley picked up the albums and gestured upstairs. “It’s in the living room. Right by my chair. Where it should be. You would have left it rotting in storage if you’d had the chance.”

Ford gave him a look but he helped usher the kids upstairs and kept Mabel from damaging the record in her excitement.

Stan checked the player’s needle and arm before taking the record from Mabel. He set it in place and turned it on, carefully setting the needle down.

The sound of the opening guitar riff immediately took him and Ford back. They hadn’t heard this music in years but as soon as it started playing it felt like yesterday.

 

Stanley had broken Ford’s machine. He considered hiding it but he knew how badly his brother wanted this opportunity. So, he sucked up his pride and told him. Ford looked like someone had died and rushed down to the gymnasium with his brother with some equipment. It took nearly five hours to really fix the problem and by then it was a few minutes past dawn.

“I…I still gotta present to the panel. And I’ve been up all night and smell like it,” Ford muttered, starting to get anxious and flustered.

“Sixer. Sixer! We’re in the gym. Go shower. I got a change of clothes in my locker that are clean. Number 15,” Stan shoved his brother towards the locker room with a soft smile.

Ford stumbled out about fifteen minutes later and Stan smiled. “You got this, Sixer!” His brother made a face and plucked at the shirt.

“Stan, I look like you.”

Stanley smirked. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Yes! No! I mean…I don’t know!”

Stan snorted and checked his watch. “Almost seven. I’ll go outside. Leave you alone with the panel.” He lightly punched his brother’s arm. “To your future!”

Ford smiled softly. “To my future,” he replied softly. Stan had stayed up all night with him as his assistant. Honestly, without Stan, Ford was sure that he would still likely be fixing the machine.

A car door shut outside and Stan grinned. “Good luck!” He hurried outside and left Ford in front of his project. He went down to the nearby corner store and got some celebratory snacks. When he made it back, Ford was just walking outside with a bemused look.

“Sixer! How’d it go? You got the scholarship, right? Full ride to West Coast Tech!”

Ford looked at Stan and he smiled softly. “Actually…I just got a check…”

“Wait, what?”

Ford pulled it out and showed it to Stanley. “I presented my machine to them…but I ended up saying something more than I should have. About family…and one of the panelists got this weird look…”

“Oh no, they told you to stuff it?” Stan asked, his face starting to knit together in worry.

“No, no…they actually asked me what I wanted the most. And the honest answer came out…I want to stay near my brother,” Ford whispered.

“Ford!” Stanley roared in exasperation. “What the hell?! You’ve been so ready to get out of here!”

“But they wouldn’t let you stay in student housing with me. Gotta be a married couple for that. The cost of living there is so much higher than here. We wouldn’t be able to work good enough jobs to pay for it.” Ford held up the check. “This though, guarantees me admission to anywhere I want. Besides, I already got some acceptance letters. Just gotta pick where to go.”

Stan sighed but he couldn’t help the little smile. He had helped his brother all night and Ford decided to stay with him. “You’re an idiot, Sixer,” he said affectionately. “I’m letting you tell Dad.”

Somehow Ford managed to break the news to his parents. Their mom thought it sweet that the boys were going to stick together. The only part of his explanation that seemed to please his dad was that he still got money for school. As long as Filbrick didn’t have to pay for any expensive college he was fine. Ford was a genius. He would still find a way to make huge sums of money.

Ford and Stan grabbed some things from their room and decided to spend the day at the beach. They sat in their boat and looked at the different acceptance letters. Ford also had information on each school and the cost. Stan was mostly just nodding along to whatever his brother said.

“-so taking all of that into account, it looks like it’ll be…Backupsmore.” Ford grinned at his brother.

Stan raised a brow. “Backupsmore? Homes of the Kewpies? Out of all of them, that’s the one?”

“Yeah! It’ll be harder for me to have good access to research and such but it’s closer than the others. It’s just a couple towns over. I’m sure you could get a job and it’ll pay enough to keep you stable while I pay for school and whatnot with this scholarship money.”

Stan sighed but he grinned. “Backupsmore it is. The Fighting Kewpie Dolls!” He roared with laughter and Ford soon joined in.

 

Ford had been right. Stan had found a job at a mechanics shop. He was able to keep his car running on his own and working on others only enhanced his skill. He also picked up some boxing matches here and there. Ford threw himself into his studies and Stan got to watch as he made it through his undergraduate work in one year and his graduate work in two. While studying multiple disciplines.

Ford had a roommate that Stan found absolutely fun. Fiddleford McGucket was so unlike them. His accent, his sense of dress, his whole being was different. They would hang out any time the two geniuses could take a break from their studies. It mostly involved Stan watching in slight fascination but mostly boredom as they played Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons while drinking cheap beer.

About five years into Ford’s studies, a few weeks after the twins’ birthday, Stan offered a different place for them to hang out that night. He didn’t tell them much except that it was a college bar and it was open mic night so who knows what would happen. Ford looked uncertain but Fids was all for it. Stan told them to get there at eight o’clock.

By the time they got there, the place was full and rather loud. Drunk young adults were always a dice roll: loud or causing mayhem. Very little room in between. Fids and Ford somehow managed to get to the bar to get drinks.

“Alright, alright, alright, our next open mic performer is going by the name R.E. 202!”

Fiddleford’s brows creased a bit. “R.E. 202? That’s our research lab.” Ford frowned and nodded. The two turned towards the small stage in time to see…Stan.

Stan in ripped up jeans, boots, and black. Stan with a guitar. Stan who looked so suave and confident on the small stage.

Ford and Fids started to press forward, getting as close as they dared.

Stanley turned on a cassette player that looked a lot like the ones the Music Department at Backupsmore had. Three clicks of what sounded like drumsticks and then Stan was playing to the recorded bass and drums.

Fiddleford’s eyes widened and he nudged Ford. “Ya didn’t tell me yer brother could _play_.”

Ford shook his head dumbly. “N-Not like that!” He had remembered Stan messing with the guitars that passed through the pawn shop. He had started to pick out simple songs by ear. But this…this was composing and _playing_.

“Warriors, torchbearers, come redeem our dreams/Shine a light upon this night of otherworldly fiends/Odin's might be your guide, divorce you from the sane/Hammer's way will have its say, rise up in their name.”

Ford knew Stan had a good voice and enjoyed a wide range of music but this was heavier than anything he had heard Stan listen to. And the lyrics were rather specific in their mythology. When had Stan taken time to learn about Norse gods? His brother was full of surprises tonight.

There was a guitar solo about halfway through and Ford couldn’t help but stare at his brother with his mouth hanging open. It didn’t appear that he was alone as the whole bar was cheering and obviously enjoying the song. Ford had thought it would be one of those things that only certain people liked. If that were the case then this bar was full of those kinds of people.

The song did eventually come to a close, much sooner than Ford or Fids would have liked. Still, it was an intense song and it was probably a good thing it was average length. Stanley was grinning as he cut off the cassette player and left the stage.

“One song? That’s it?” Fiddleford started, waving his hands towards the stage as if he could somehow get Stanley playing another song with his indignation.

“Hey, who knows when he started this thing? He may be working on another but not have it ready.” Ford suddenly straightened and grinned when he saw Stanley had noticed them and was making his way over.

“Hey guys! You came! What’d you think?”

Ford let out an odd little chuckle. “Heh, ah it was great. Just…when the hell did you learn to play like that?”

Stanley laughed. “It was easy! I met a music major at the shop and mentioned I had been learning guitar. He set me up time with a friend who could teach me. She helped me figure out how to compose too! You two have been nerding it up for five years and I worked and learned guitar!”

A bit of jealousy flared in Ford’s chest. Why had Stanley kept it a secret? To surprise him? Probably. His brother would find it sweet.

“Why Norse Gods then, Stanley?” Fids asked. “Who’d you learn that from?”

“Huh? Oh, that’s stuck with me since high school. They got mentioned in history class one time and I read up on them periodically. So cool compared to the boring religion we grew up around.”

Ford huffed. “Judaism is boring?”

“It is when its all you know. Just repeating and repeating, bah bah bah.” Stanley shrugged.

“Are ya thinking about making a band? See ya had to get someone to record the bass and drums for this.” Fiddleford was looking at Stanley with a little gleam in his eyes.

“That’d be awesome if I could! I just don’t know anyone who plays those that isn’t bogged down in music theory and whatever else they’re studying!”

Fiddleford looked over at Stanford and the other Pine narrowed his eyes. “No. No McGucket. Don’t you do it.”

Stan looked at Fids with a raised brow. “What?”

“Stan, I come from a musical family. My grandpa played the spoons since he was five and my pa played the banjo. I learned banjo when I was six and when I was a teenager my cousin taught me bass.” Fiddleford grinned when he saw Stan grasping the idea.

“Holy crap Fids that’s amazing! Just need a drummer now.”

Fiddleford looked at Ford and the other sighed. “Fids…”

“Ford…you can play the drums?”

Fiddleford laughed and smacked Stanley’s arm. “We tried the bass and guitar. Thought those extra fingers would come in handy for it. Turns out the extra muscle and tendon isn’t as fine-essed as the others. But it makes his grip stronger.”

“Yes. And it is a surprisingly good way to relieve stress.”

Stanley laughed and wrapped an arm around each of the other two men. “This is fantastic! R.E. 202 is a real band now!”

Ford smiled and put an arm around Stanley. “Why that name?” he asked as Stanley led them out of the bar.

“Eh, thought it was unique. Who else names something after a room?”

The three laughed as they headed back to the dorm to start planning. Fiddleford was almost done with his studies and Ford was blowing through his doctorates like they were kindergarten. They had time to work on this project. It was fun, it was interesting, it was nothing like they thought they would be doing.

 

Fiddleford helped arrange rehearsals times using the music department’s recording studio. He and Ford picked up the two songs that Stan had already fully composed quickly. They played at local waterholes and gained more and more popularity.

Ford could see why many of the college students in the area enjoyed their music. It was heavy and intense compared to most of the mainstream music. And Stan tended to put a feeling into the lyrics that could tap into those deep-seated experiences and feelings.

One song in particular seemed to be drawing on feelings from their childhood. It sounded like a nonsensical rock song but the emotion it pulled out of Ford was of their father. How they handled his rejections and dismissals. He didn’t ask his brother if that was true.

Stan brought a new song to one rehearsal and Ford made a soft noise at the title. “Poet and the Muse? Isn’t this…Isn’t this the bedtime story Ma would tell?”

“Yep. It’s based off that. And it’s a little softer. Thought you might like it.”

Ford smiled softly and looked over the composition with Fiddleford. “Well…this does sound pretty. Let’s try it out and see what we think.”

It was that song which got picked up on the college’s radio station. It was played quite often and made quite a soundtrack to a late-night drive.

“And now to see your love set free/You will need the witch's cabin key/Find the lady of the light, gone mad with the night/That's how you reshape destiny.”

With the popularity of that song, more of their songs were picked up by the station. Late in December, Stan got a special call. He gathered Ford and Fiddleford around so they could listen in as they were told an agent with Full Moon Records wanted them to come up and play in the studio as an audition to be signed. The three of them had never been more grateful for winter break.

When they got there, they realized the leg up they had by being able to use Backupsmore’s recording booth. They already knew how to set up and the etiquette required. This impressed the agent and put them on the right foot for when they played the song that Ford was sure was about their father.

“Ever the light casts a shadow/Ever the night springs from the light,” Stan was so into it as he sang into the mic. “/In the end, it's never just the light you need/When balance slays the demon, you'll find peace/In the end, it's never just the dark you seek/When balance slays the demon, you'll find peace/Find the peace.”

Ford was always amazed at how his brother could sing and play an awesome riff. It was something he had only been around for six months and was still so new to him.

Apparently, they had all performed their hearts out as they were signed on that day after negotiating a contract. An album was almost immediately in the works and Stan started to arrange songs for a future album. Just in case.

By March, the album was ready for release. The three had talked their manager into accepting their idea for the cover in exchange for him naming it. “Perfect Storm” was released with a galaxy cover that was better than they would have thought. There was an insert added that had promotional photos of them as they were adamant that the album cover shouldn’t have them on it.

Sales were looking good and in June (after Ford had secured his tenth doctorate) they announced a tour schedule. They weren’t raking in a huge amount of money yet but the interest in them was already paying them more than any of their other jobs.

 

Being on tour was a little odd for one main reason. The bus. Ford helped them put up the down payment for it and their manager agreed to get the record label to make the payments. It slept them all but it was with a caveat: one bed and two bunks. Fiddleford as the smallest felt just fine sleeping in the bunk. Ford and Stan however had little spats over who slept where and usually ended up rotating.

Some nights though, they couldn’t agree whose turn it was. Stan would claim the bed and pass out quickly. Ford would shower and change into pyjamas and then wiggle himself into the space left on the bed. If he felt Fiddleford watching them, he said nothing. If he noticed the way Stan cuddled him, he said nothing.

Ford had always had feelings for his brother and now they were together nearly 24/7. It also didn’t help him that there was something there for Fids. Likely a hazard of spending so much time together. The other man was just so cute and small and weird.

He had no idea how it was going to end with the three of them crammed into a bus together but their success with the band drove the thought from his mind.


	2. Battle Grounds

Dipper and Mabel watched the record player with awe as the album came to a stop. Mabel was the first to move and she picked the album up with a laugh.

“Whoa! That was awesome! Grunkle Stan, I didn’t know you could _sing_ like that!”

Stan smirked softly and shrugged. “What? Compared to my harmony in “Taking Over Midnight” this sounds like crap.”

Dipper laughed and Mabel blew a raspberry. “Grunkle Stan! This is so much better than that!”

Ford looked up at his brother with a soft smile. Mabel was right. Stan still sang around the Shack, especially in the shower, but his voice has changed now. Age and drink and cigarettes…this was before that. This was his singing voice in its prime.

“So, “Battle Grounds” next?” Dipper offered.

“We’re supposed to be-” Ford started.

“Cleaning the Shack, yeah yeah. Let’s take a break, Sixer.” Stan took the second album from Dipper and got it settled onto the player.

The guitar that came out this time wasn’t as heavy as the first album but it was still undeniably rock. Stan and Ford didn’t have to look at the song list to know exactly which the song this was and why it was written. They shared a knowing smile and settled down with the twins.

 

The “Perfect Storm” tour lasted two months and then Ford and Fids were back at Backupsmore to continue their studies. Stan was working at the mechanic shop and writing more songs. He had an idea for a song that came to him on the tour and wouldn’t leave him and a few more ideas were presenting themselves as the months continued.

R.E. 202 rehearsed often and started recording “Battle Grounds” in October. It was unfinished by the time December rolled around but the trio convinced their manager that a break would do them good. Fids wanted to go back to Tennessee and see his family and the Pines twins felt the same. It had been so long since they had seen their parents.

The Stanmobile was loaded up with their things for a two week stay. They would be getting back home in time for Hanukkah. The two were actually looking forward to it. They hadn’t observed any of the holidays since they left home.

When they rolled into town though, Ford and Stan quickly realized that something was different. They were being stared at. Most of the older people gave them looks of disgust while the younger ones looked at them with awe. With a jolt in the pit of their stomachs they realized that everyone in Glass Shard Beach knew about R.E. 202.

The answer of how and why came to them at Pines Pawn. They stepped inside the quiet store and behind the cashier counter was a bulletin board with every single newspaper clipping about them. It was a shock that their parents would display them so prominently but it made them smile. They were sure it was their mom. She was often proud of them.

“Shermy! Go see who that is!”

“Okay, Ma!”

A lanky, six-year-old boy hurried down the stairs into the shop and the twins’ faces split into wide grins. Little Shermy was getting so big! They had no idea if he would know who they were.

“Shermy,” Ford called excitedly.

The boy looked up at them for a moment before he grinned. “Stanley! Stanford!” He ran to them and hugged them tightly. “You’re here for Hanukkah! You made it!”

“Course we did,” Stan said with a laugh.

“Shermy! Who is it?”

Shermy took their hands and led them upstairs quickly. “It’s the Stans, Ma!”

Stan and Ford followed Shermy into the kitchen where their mom was cooking dinner. She looked up and her eyes widened before she came around the counter to hug them tightly.

“Oh my boys! Look at you! You’ve grown so much!” She pulled back and fiddled with Stanley’s hair. “You know…we should have let you grow your hair out sooner. You look good, Stanley.”

Stan’s cheeks tinged pink. “Thanks, Ma.”

“I’m so glad you boys came down.”

“We were too excited about spending Hanukkah with our family to stay away,” Ford said with a grin.

Their mom’s face fell a bit and Stan frowned. “What is it, Ma?”

“Well…Well, it’s your father. He got sick a few months back and it’s getting worse,” she said softly, “Shermy and I are running the shop.”

“Where is he?” Ford asked, glancing at Stan. Was this the last holiday they would spend with their father?

“He’s in bed. Come on, he’d be glad to see you.” Their Ma put a smile on her face but it did nothing to ease the worry the twins felt.

Ford and Stan followed their mom to the master bedroom and peeked in cautiously. Filbrick was in bed and it was obvious he had lost weight and was ill. Ford and Stan shared a look before Ford made his way into the room. He and their dad had always had a better relationship.

“Dad?” he called out softly.

Filbrick groaned softly and turned towards the voice. His eyes fluttered open and he squinted up at Ford. “Hmf…Ford…you’re home…”

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, Dad. Stan and I came home. For Hanukkah.”

“S-Stan too…”

“Yeah, we’re both home. Just-Just go ahead and rest Dad. We can talk when you’re ready.”

“Never…Never would have thought…of you in a band…proud of you two for working together and making money…”

Ford looked back at Stan and they shared a smile. It was so rare to get that sort of reaction from their father. It had to have been him that cut out the newspaper articles. They were in the shop after all.

“Just…don’t screw it up…like everything else…”

Stanley huffed and left the room while Ford simply nodded and left their father to rest.

Their mom gestured to the table where Shermy was already sitting. A home cooked dinner. It was something they had sorely missed. Stanley especially going by the way he stuffed his mouth. Perhaps being back home wouldn’t be all bad.

 

Ford sat with Shermy on the floor, a few of their mom’s pots and pans around him in a makeshift drum kit. Stanley stomped up the stairs with the groceries he had been sent to get and he was muttering under his breath.

“What happened now?” Ford asked as he adjusted Shermy’s grip before showing him the drum beat for The Poet and the Muse.

“Ugh, no one will leave me alone. If they ask me “hey, how’s it goin’?” it’s just a lead in to ask me about the band. We’re home. We’re not doing anything with the band. These questions are driving me up the wall,” he ranted as he unloaded the bags.

“Should write a song about it,” Shermy piped up and Ford snorted.

Stan paused. “Huh. Write a song…” He started humming as he put the groceries away. “So, don't ask me no questions/And I won't tell you no lies/So, don't ask me about my business/And I won't tell you goodbye…”

“Oh no. Thanks, Sherm.” Ford ruffled his brother’s hair a bit roughly and his brother laughed and swatted at him.

“Hey, you got your stuff packed up, Sixer? Need to head out first thing in the morning.”

“Yeah, everything’s ready to go.” Shermy pouted up at him and Ford smiled. “We’ll be back. But I gotta get back to class.”

Stan grinned. “And I gotta get us back in the studio. Weekend trips to New York!”

Shermy grinned up at his older brothers. “I wanna see you live!”

“Little young there, shortstuff.” Shermy huffed and Stan nudged him with his foot. “But I know something we can do for you. We’ll send you the new album when its ready. Just for you.”

Shermy grinned and got to his feet to hug his brother tightly. “Thanks, Stan!”

Stanley hugged him back just as tightly. “Hey, promise me something, alright? Take care of Ma,” he whispered. “Do chores without pouting and stay on top of your schoolwork. Complain to us if you need to. Okay?”

Shermy sniffled and nodded. “I promise.”

 

Stan and Ford met up with Fiddleford at a breakfast place near campus. They sat in a booth near the back and caught each other up on their trips back home. Stan lamented about all the questions from people and Fids immediately latched onto it. He had been sure that even the cows and goats were trying to ask him questions about the band. It seemed there was no going back to the lives they had before.

After filling up on pancakes and coffee, they went back to the dorm room and Stan showed them some songs he had been working on. Fiddleford grabbed his bass as Stan started playing a slow song and picked up the new bass line quickly. Ford was left to tap out a drum beat on his desk but he had done it before during one of these impromptu rehearsals.

“Train roll on, on down the line/Won't you please take me far away?/Now I feel the wind blow outside my door/Means I'm, I'm leaving my woman at home.”

None of them had had much luck dating but the feeling of leaving people behind as they moved forward with R.E. 202 was unshakeable. Stan’s biggest concern with this song was that it might sound too different. At their next recording session though, it was recorded and their manager loved it.

They also added the song he had come up with while on their visit back home. The three of them played it with such enthusiasm that their manager really had no choice but to include it.

 

“Battle Grounds” was released in February and just as they promised, the twins sent Shermy a shirt and the new album. They didn’t hear a reply but they got caught up in school work and planning another tour and so didn’t think to call home.

Right before they left one night in June to start their tour they got a call from their Ma. Ford had answered while Stan and Fids had wrangled all of their stuff into their bus. He shuffled out to them and looked at them with wide eyes.

“Dad’s…Dad’s in the hospital…they…they don’t think he’s going to make it past the end of the week…”

Stanley froze and almost dropped an amp on Fiddleford. “Should…Should we go home?”

Ford took a deep breath and shook his head. “No…I told Ma about the tour and we agreed he’d want us to keep going. Remember? Don’t screw it up.”

Stanley swallowed hard and nodded. “Don’t screw it up.”

“Oh, and Shermy did get the shirt and album. He’s been listening to it non-stop.”

Stan chuckled softly but went quiet after that.

They were on the road in an hour and Stan was up messing with his guitar on the lower level of the bus. Ford and Fids decided to share the bed since this would likely be the only chance they had since Stan was occupied.

Ford wasn’t sure how it started but soon Fids mouth was on his and his hands were under Fiddleford’s pyjamas. This tension had been there for years and it seemed this new stress just tilted the scales. They got a hand down each other’s pants and they barely broke contact as they kissed heatedly.

Whispered calls of names were exchanged as they learned what the other liked. The soft sounds of Stan playing filtered up to them over the sound of the engine. It felt like both a blink of an eye and an eternity when both of them finally came.

“Fids…”

“Shh. Don’t-Don’t have to say nothing,” Fiddleford whispered. “I know…” Well, he at least suspected about Ford’s attraction to him and to his brother. They had grown so much closer in the last year that he really didn’t mind. And right now, Ford just needed to be allowed to feel comforted. Fids was only too happy to oblige.

 

Most of this tour and all of the first one was along the east coast. That included a stop in a venue in Washington. The fact that they had some fans there had surprised them but it had also shaken them. Sure, their music had been liked but who they were as people weren’t. They weren’t rich and they weren’t WASPs. When they had left that venue in the first tour, Stan had written a song that night.

Now they were going to perform it.

The venue was just as packed as the year before and the album had already been released. So surely that was a good sign. Perhaps the audience here wasn’t too ticked off by the song. Really only one way to know though.

Ford and Fids thought putting the song in the middle of the set would be good. Stan wanted it to be the opener. The other two thought that putting it in the middle would ease the audience and keep them happy. Stan finally agreed to it.

Stan was now grinning as he started the opening guitar chords for this particular song. It was a grin Ford knew well and one that made him tingle. It was the grin he used to use when he was about to punch Crampelter right in the face. He moved up to the mic like he was about to make love to it and started to sing.

“Have you ever lived down in the ghetto?/Have you ever felt that cold wind blow?/If you don't know what I mean/Won't you stand up and scream?/Because there's things going on that you don't know.”

Ford and Fiddleford could see a little bit of a ripple go through the audience at the lyrics but no one made to leave. Their music was so good that they wanted to listen to them live. Even when the lyrics were poking fun at them.

“Too many lives they've spent across the ocean/Too much money been spent upon the moon/Well, until they make it right/I hope they never sleep at night/They better make some changes/And do it soon, do it now, do it good.”

This song was a bit softer than most of their others. Most of what Ford was doing was very gentle. It gave him ample opportunity to watch the crowd. One person in particular caught his eye. He looked like a trust fund baby who got dragged there by his friends and he looked pissed. He caught Fids eye and pointed him out. They would need to keep an eye on him.

The rest of their set went on as normal. They decided to spend an hour while another band played drinking and mingling with fans. Stan was getting drunker than either of them and doing it fast. It was a rare but not unusual occurrence.

The young man Ford had spotted earlier came up to them and Fiddleford moved closer to the twins.

“Ahem, Preston Northwest, aid to Mark Hatfield.”

Stan looked him up and down and smirked. He held his hand out to him. “Stan Pines, lead singer of R.E. 202.”

Preston looked at the hand offered to him with disdain and declined to shake. “I was wondering about the origin of that song.”

“Which one?” Stanley asked with a belch.

Preston’s eyes narrowed in a mix of anger and distaste. “You know the one.”

Ford nudged his brother to shut up and Fiddleford gave the answer. “I grew up in Bell Buckle, Tennessee and they grew up in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. We have a different point of view than someone who works for a senator. No offense. Just different lives.”

“Well, offense taken. Do you really think your government just sits in Washington twiddling their thumbs?!” Preston asked, starting to get louder.

“We don’t know what they do because what they’ve done hasn’t helped us out,” Ford countered, “We had to do it ourselves. Pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, you know. Or you would, if you had also grown up poor.”

“Not talking to the six-fingered drum freak,” Preston hissed.

Ford felt Stan move and he managed to keep his brother from punching him in the face. “Stan! Not worth it!”

“You won’t play in this town again,” Preston threatened.

“Go ahead. Get us blackballed here. We don’t care if we play for you and your WASPs or not.” Stan got to his feet and downed the rest of his drink. “Come on, guys, we gotta hit the road.”

As they were leaving, Ford turned back and flipped Preston off. Stan caught it out of the corner of his eye and he wrapped an arm around his brother. “Ha! That was great, Sixer!”

Ford smiled and put an arm around Stan. “Thanks for wanting to stand up for me. Though you can stop punching people who insult me now. We’re not little kids.”

“But that’s what I’m good at.”

“Stan, you’re great at a lot of things. Not just fighting.”

Fiddleford opened the door of their bus for them. “Go ahead and take your showers. There’s some food I left in the fridge I want to eat.”

“Thanks, Fids.”

Ford took his brother upstairs and got him showered and changed into his pyjamas. Stanley flopped onto the bed and brought Ford down with him. “Stan! I still need to-”

Stanley pressed a misaligned kiss to his brother’s lips. “Love ya, Sixer,” he murmured before promptly passing out.

Ford sighed but smiled softly. “Love you too, Stan. Drunken idiot.”

 

“Hey guys,” their driver, something Ramirez, grabbed their attention as they were heading back to the bus. “There was a phone call while you were performing. For the Pines twins.”

Stan and Ford looked at each other and they both had a feeling about what the call was.

“Did they leave a message?”

The driver nodded and he handed them a folded piece of paper. Ford took it and unfolded it. Stan and Fids pressed close and read it over his shoulders.

““Your father passed away this morning. Funeral will be tomorrow”. Oh, fellas I’m sorry.” Fiddleford said softly.

Stanley took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “…I ain’t tearing my clothes for him. But I’m fine not shaving,” he muttered to his brother who only nodded.

The trio made their way onto the bus and they all collapsed onto the bed. Stanley grabbed his guitar and started to play softly.

“…Well, he walks so tall, to be so small/Never met a man who's stranger/He lives his life for a dollar sign/And to deal with him is dangerous.”

Ford inhaled sharply. This was the song Stanley had started when they got the first phone call. He was sure they wouldn’t use it on an album but it was obviously something Stanley had needed to do to cope.

Fiddleford squeezed Stan’s shoulder and found Ford’s hand to link their fingers together.

“Let's cry for this bad man/I sing a song for the bad man…”


	3. Chaos Theory

“Grunkle Stan got political,” Mabel teased and Stan made a half-hearted swipe at her.

“It was the late 70s. Everyone was getting political.” Stan explained and Ford smirked.

“And it almost got a senator’s aid punched in the face. I think they have a point that maybe we weren’t the people that should have gotten political.”

“Eh, whatever. “Battle Grounds” is still one of my favorites,” Stan muttered, almost appearing to sulk into his chair. Ford pat his leg and got up to change out the albums.

“And here is my personal favorite. “Chaos Theory”. I even got to name this one, kids.”

“Who named the others?” Dipper asked, looking at “Perfect Storm” and “Battle Grounds”.

“Our manager. We liked the names just fine. But I got more creative with this one so Stan suggested I also come up with a name.”

Ford set the needle down and his creative influence was more readily apparent. The very first song started with a much more intense and audible drum beat and bass beat. It was obvious that he and Fids had helped Stan with the composition to make sure they were heard.

 

“So I kinda want to do a song like our first one.” Stan said as they fiddled in the recording studio.

“What, another Norse song?” Ford made a bit of a face, practicing a new drum solo he had just learned.

“No, no. Just…something hard and kinda…like nonsense? Not quite an obvious meaning.”

Fids grinned. “I like it. Hey, I was working on a bass line the other day. Tell me what ya think.” He started to pick out a bass line and Ford used his recently discovered musical ear to add in a drum beat.

“Yeah, yeah!” Stan picked out the music keys and started to add in notes. It was very rough but a song was starting to form.

“I've got this madman in my mind/This prolific designer/And he's working overtime/And he gets all wired up.” It was Ford who came up with those lines and Stan was only too happy to add to it when he saw his brother fumble.

“Higher and higher/As we fly.”

Fids actually got to his feet as they found a chorus and he added in his own touch. “Perfect, near fatal headlong dive/A blueprint for life/Blueprint your life.”

“Aggressively primal/Cultural high/This mental Versailles/Is much grander than the lies-” Ford started and Stan joined in as their creative minds seemed to eerily sync up. Maybe they did have a twin thing. “You tell yourself to get/Through the night/Sentenced to drama/For life!”

There was a crackle over the intercom and their manager leaned towards the glass of the recording studio. “Man watching you guys collaborate like this is just amazing. Work this one into a real song and I think we got our first single for the next album!”

Stan whooped and held his hand up. “High six!”

“High six!” Ford and Fids said at the same time and high-fived his hand.

 

Ford and Fids were staring intently at a DD&MD board and Stan was sitting on Ford’s bed with his guitar. In his boredom, he fiddled with Ford’s side table and opened every drawer and looked through everything in them. In the bottom drawer at the very bottom under some random nerd books was a photo from their high school graduation.

“Whoa! You still have this!”

Ford looked over and his cheeks tinged pink a bit when he saw the picture. It was the two of them at their boat with a bunch of liquor they had nabbed from their dad’s liquor cabinet.

“What, it was a fun night.”

Stan laughed. “Yeah it was! Should have seem his Fids. It was the first time he got really, really drunk!”

Fiddleford laughed and nudged Ford. “I wish I could’ve seen that. My high school friends had parents that ran moonshine. It’s why its hard for me to get drunk with you guys.”

“Jesus, Fids. Moonshine?” Stan asked with a laugh.

“Yeah, it was great stuff.”

“Hey, Stan, when we were back home I noticed the boat was gone.” Ford said softly.

Stan sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I noticed. And they renovated the school. It’s like most of our memories are gone.”

“Happening to me to boys. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss it until…” Fids trailed off and Ford and Stanley nodded.

“The years have come and gone/But the stories carry on/Looking back, they're better than they used to be…”

Ford looked at his brother with a little smirk. “Cause you should've seen the size of the guys we were fightin'.”

“And we shouldn't be alive at the speeds we were driving!”

Fiddleford held up the beer he had been sipping on. “But Momma always taught us to never tell a lie.”

“And every ten-yard pass always turned into twenty/Every girl we were with never cost any money.”

“And we drank more tequila than any man alive…”

“And the story goes on/It gets a little better/Every time we're together”

Stan grinned. “Think it’s too soon for a nostalgic song like this? I thought most bands had to have a few albums under their belt before they could put a song like this out.”

“Nah, I think we could do it and be just fine. Remember, our audience is mostly people our age. They’ll know the feelings we’re talking about.” Ford turned back to the DD&MD board and picked up the die.

Stan smiled as he watched the two. So cute. And sweet. The both of them. It was a little confusing to admit to himself that, not only did he love his brother in that sense, but he was in love with two guys at the same time. He found his fingers picking out a tune on the guitar that was too slow to go to the lyrics they had come up with. No, no. This was a love song of his own design. One that had been teasing his mind for a couple of years now.

Fiddleford lifted his eyes from their game and nudged Ford with his foot. “He’s writing a love song…listen.”

Ford made a soft noise and listened to the tune his brother was playing. “Eh. Could be a love song. But I doubt it. It’s Stan.”

“Yeah and Stanley is fully capable of being romantic,” Fids pointed out with a snort. “Should see the way he looks at you.”

Ford blanched before his face flamed. “What? No,” he whispered heatedly. “Don’t know what you’re talking about Fids. You’re the one that does that.”

“Oh I know. But I’m not the only one.” Fids rolled the die and he grinned. “And Old Man McGucket uses the staff of improbability to defeat the Clycoptopus!”

“Nerds,” Stanley murmured affectionately.

 

Ford sat in the library with balled up sheets of paper around him. He was sketching on a fresh sheet, his tongue peeking forward in concentration. He had seen a design in a class a few days ago and he was trying to recreate it for their new album. He could draw and sketch but he was being so critical of every version he made. None of them seemed good enough.

“Hey, Sixer, watcha working on?”

Ford jumped and looked up at Stanley. “Jesus, Stanley, almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Heh, sorry bro. So, what’re you working on?” Stan picked up one of the balled-up pieces of paper and unwrapped it. He made a soft noise before he grinned. “This is cool! What class are you doodling for this time?”

“Oh, uh…” Ford’s cheeks tinged pink. “It’s-It’s actually something I-I-I thought would be good for an album.”

Stan blinked as he processed Ford’s words. He let out a laugh that made the librarian shush him and clapped his brother’s back. “Dude that’s awesome!”

Ford blushed as he smiled, unable to ignore how the librarian was glaring at them. He shushed Stanley before holding up the most recent version. “What about this version? I think it’s the best.”

Stan looked closely at it and he nodded. “I like it. Add some color and we got our next cover!” He punched Ford’s arm. “I’m heading to the dorm to start packing up for this weekend. Fids is already there. I think he said something about bringing DD&MD and trying to get our manager into a game.” He shrugged and pulled a face.

Ford snorted and shook his head. “Tell him I said good luck. I got some studying to do.” He glanced at the books he had grabbed before getting distracted by the art idea. “Pick me up when you’re ready to go?”

“Sure thing, Sixer. Study hard, get this last degree done,” Stanley cheered as he exited the library.

Ford turned towards his books with a smile. He was scanning through the first book when he felt eyes on him and a shadow fell over him. He looked up at the librarian and he smiled nervously. “H-Hey there, Mrs. Rampichini…”

“Mr. Pines, I am losing track of how many times I have to remind you-”

“I know, Mrs. Rampichini, I’ll tell Stan to be quiet. He just gets really excited really easily.” Ford nervously chuckled but the librarian’s frown didn’t budge.

“Do try to impress it upon him.”

“Yes, Mrs. Rampichini. Will do, Mrs. Rampichini.”

 

Their manager was quite pleased with Ford’s idea for the album cover. They spent the weekend recording new songs and touching up ones they had already completed. Sunday afternoon was spent lazily playing DD&MD and their manager asked about ideas for the name of the new album. They had time to come up with one if they needed but Ford tossed out the idea of calling it “Chaos Theory”. It was the topic of his current thesis paper and seemed like a cool, nerdy name.

The album was sent off to be finalized and put into production in December. Ford was able to spend his last semester in school totally focused on his academics. He had studied the happenings of anomalies in the states and he was very interested in learning more. When Stan brought up the stops on their tour, Ford suggested they add a few more shows and found some stops that were large enough to not make their manager raise any eyebrows but he knew they contained anomalies. Fiddleford warned him about this sneaking about instead of telling Stan what was up but Ford assured him it would be just fine.

Stanley was at Ford’s graduation ceremony just like all the other ones. Fids sat with him as they watched Ford cross the stage, in full doctoral regalia. It was still amusing to Stan that dressed like that people still would come up to Ford and ask about band stuff. He thought his brother looked quite distinguished in that get up though. Might need to keep it around…

Fids elbowed him hard in the middle of the ceremony and Stanley quickly stopped his wandering mind.

 

The first stop on their tour was in Princeton. They had added it as a stop on their last tour and with the university it was always a packed house. They were almost done for the night when Stan whispered to Fids who nodded. Ford frowned but didn’t leave his drum kit to investigate.

“Alright guys! Before we leave tonight we’re going to play a new song! Not even on the album so all of ya’ll got the exclusive first listen!”

The crowd cheered and Stan pulled back enough to start playing. Fids joined in with a bass line that Ford recognized. Fiddleford had played with him so he could learn a new song. The thing was that Ford had thought it was just them messing around, not a real song that Stan had lyrics for and was ready to perform. Now or never though if Ford didn’t want to mess this up for all of them. He joined in where he was supposed to and visibly saw Stan relax.

“…The first words that come out/And I can see this song will be about you…”

Ford finally realized the tune was very similar to the one Stan had been messing with all those months ago when he and Fids were playing DD&MD. Fids had been sure it was a love song and now it was starting to sound an awful lot like one.

“The next line I write down/And there's a tear that falls between the pages/I know that pain's supposed to heal in stages/But it depends which one I'm standing on…I write lines down, then rip them up/Describing love can't be this tough…”

The whole crowd seemed to be eating it up and Ford found himself leaning forward to get a better look at his brother’s face as he sang. This was a love song and Ford was desperate for any hint as to who Stan had written it about. Despite what Fids thought there could be no way it was for him.

“I could set this song on fire, send it up in smoke/I could throw it in the river and watch it sink in slowly/Tie the pages to a plane and send it to the moon/Play it for the world, but it won't mean much/Unless I sing this song to you.”

Stan turned away from the crowd a bit under the pretense of showing off his playing but he looked back at Ford and smiled softly. Ford’s face flamed and he nearly stopped playing all together. It _was_ for him. Fids had been right.

Ford managed to finish up the set without making a fool of himself. Once the three of them were backstage though, a surge of adrenaline overtook him. With his whole body trembling from it he grasped Stanley’s shoulders hard and pressed their lips together. Stan stiffened for a second before kissing him back and he vaguely heard Fiddleford whoop behind them.

Ford pulled back and pant softly as he looked at Stan. “You…You really were writing a love song about me…”

Stanley chuckled nervously and shrugged. “Well, yeah? Fids helped once he realized what was going on…”

Fiddleford smirked and nudged them closer together. “Can’t say I don’t have my reasons…this look is quite temptin’…”

Ford blushed and Stan grinned as his hands went around his brother’s waist. “Let’s at least get back to the tour bus, Fids.”

“Alright, alright, to the bus then. Before Ford there dies of embarrassment.”

Ford huffed but Stan kept a tight hold on him to keep him from actually lashing out. Not that he would actually do anything to hurt Fids. By the time they made it to the bus, Stan had actually gotten him laughing at his stupid jokes and relaxed.

Well, relaxed until they went up to the bed.

Fiddleford had already turned it down and had taken off his boots and vest. The tattoo Stan had talked him into one drunken night while they were in New York a year ago stood out on his bicep against his pale skin. Ford had spent a few nights since it had healed tracing it with fingers and tongue and seeing it stirred those memories. Except now Stan was here as well.

Fiddleford let out a low chuckle at the way Ford stiffened and blushed again. He reached out and took off the other’s jewelry and jacket. “Yer actin’ like ya never done this before…”

“Yes because it was a prior habit to fuck my brother,” Ford hissed as the redness spread to his ears. Stanley laughed and tugged his jacket and shirt off.

“Well we could have been if we had stopped being wusses about it.” Stan flopped back on the bed after kicking his shoes off. He put his hands before his head and smirked up at the other two.

Ford licked his lips and he bent down to unzip his boots so he could tug them off. “So we’re doing this…” He finally crawled onto the bed and he tentatively straddled Stanley’s hips.

Fiddleford stretched out next to Stan and made sure to put a fair bit of space between him and the twins. This was about Ford and Stan. If they wanted him more involved, he would move closer then.

Stan gripped Ford’s hips and rubbed them soothingly. “Yep, Sixer, we are.” Stanley paused and frowned a little. “Well…if you want to…I-I’m fine with going as far as you want…”

Ford smiled softly and he started to relax. He had remembered seeing Stan with Carla and he didn’t remember his brother being this sweet. Maybe he had been in private but he rather hoped it was just for him. Ford put on hand over Stanley’s and leaned down to kiss him.

“Yes,” he murmured against his lips.

Stan grinned and eagerly tugged Ford closer. One hand moved up to hold the back of Ford’s neck as they kissed. Stan’s free hand ran greedily along Ford’s torso. He wanted to know every inch of skin.

Ford moaned softly and his own hands started to explore Stanley’s body. His pinkie brushed against Stan’s nipple and that seemed to set off a fire as his own shirt was suddenly tugged off and then they were flipped over. Ford could see Fiddleford stripping down out of the corner of his eye but he was focused on Stan.

“I gotcha, Ford,” Stan murmured as he slotted their hips together. He watched in fascination as Ford’s eyes rolled and his face flushed.

Fiddleford stood so he could wiggle out of his jeans. He still wasn’t sure why he had let Stan and Ford talk him into these tight monstrosities. Yeah, they looked good on stage but at times like this they were awful. Especially if he was sweaty. Or aroused. And so much worse when it was both.

Stan pulled back when Fids plopped back down on the bed and he rested a hand on Ford’s groin. He groaned softly at the hard warmth he felt and his thumb started to fiddle with the zipper of Ford’s jeans. “F-Ford…”

“Do it…” Ford licked his lips and nodded. “Come on Stan.” He bucked his hips up against his brother’s hand.

Stan groaned and he quickly undid his brother’s fly. Fids was watching with hooded eyes and it only added to the fire burning in his stomach.

“He likes it dry,” Fids murmured, “Enjoys the friction.”

Fords face flamed but Stan grinned. He finally got Ford’s jeans pushed down and his boxers were quick to follow. “What? Like this?” He wrapped his hand around Ford’s cock and stroked in short movements. He couldn’t move along the entire length like he could with lube but it certainly seemed to be what his brother liked judging by his reaction.

Ford groaned and his hips bucked. His legs were trapped around his knees by his jeans and so he was stuck with limited leverage.

Hands were suddenly at Stan’s groin and he started, losing his rhythm on Ford. He looked down and saw Fiddleford unzipping his jeans. The other man didn’t even bother to push them down but instead reached through the fly of his boxers to take his cock out.

“Jesus, Fids…”

Fiddleford smirked. “Jest wanted to compare.”

Ford moaned and his cock twitched in Stan’s hold. Stan licked his lips. “And…?”

Fids grinned and sucked Stan’s cock into his mouth. Stanley cried out but the pleasure didn’t last long as Fiddleford pulled back and grinned. “I’d say twins.”

“You’re weird, Fids,” Ford muttered and Fiddleford moved up to shut him up with a kiss.

Stan watched with rapt attention before he suddenly realized how hot it was with his jeans still on. He managed to get off the bed and he practically tore his clothes off. Ford’s were next and he tossed them over his shoulder. He dug around the small storage area next to the bed for the bottle of lube he kept stashed there. Stanley frowned a little and held it up to the light.

“…You two have been stealing my lube.”

“Mmf, payback for jerking off in the one good bed.” Ford smirked up at Stan and his brother stuck his tongue out.

“Then you can buy the next one.”

Stan settled on the bed again between Ford’s legs and he pushed them up towards his torso. Fid grasped one behind the knee and moved down a bit to kiss and nip at Ford’s neck. Stan lubed his fingers and circled Ford’s hole.

“Wai-who decided I was bottoming?”

“I’ll do it next time. I don’t want you too sore before tomorrow night’s performance,” Stan grinned. “You sit, I stand.”

Ford blushed but he merely spread his legs wider. Stan took the sign and eased his finger into Ford. Stanley couldn’t stop himself from moaning and he pressed his mouth to Ford’s thigh to mouth at it.

“M-More…Stan, please…”

Well Stan didn’t need to be told twice. Not with sex, at least. He worked a second finger in and started to scissor them as well as he could. Ford’s body was gripping them like a vice. He really needed to relax him. He rested his thumb on Ford’s perineum and crooked his fingers towards it.

“Stan!”

Stanley grinned and he made the motion again, watching as his brother thrashed in pleasure. “There it is.”

Fids sat up and let go of his hard cock. He didn’t want to come before they got to the good part. “Git him stretched Stan…then flip him over.”

Stanley looked up at Fids and he smirked. “You got an idea?” Fiddleford licked his lips and nodded. “I can work with that,” he said as he worked a third finger into Ford.

“Oh fuck! Stan! Stan please!”

“Don’t even have my cock in ya. Look at you,” Stan murmured against his brother’s thigh. He spent a few more moments making sure Ford was stretched before he pulled back. He pat Ford’s hip and his brother managed to roll over.

“Stan,” he whined, not liking how long this was taking. He was pulled up onto his hands and knees and he opened his eyes to see Fiddleford in front of him.

“Hey there. Thought we might put your mouth to work,” he murmured into Ford’s ear, causing a shiver to run down his back.

“Whatever you’re planning Fids…” Stan muttered as he rolled on a condom. Fiddleford smirked and merely guided Ford’s head down to his lap. Stan groaned at the sight and quickly lined up. He pushed the head of his cock into Ford and it felt like Ford’s body sucked the rest of him in. “Oh…what you’re planning is great…”

Ford moaned and his eyes slid shut as he was penetrated. His hands tightened on the bedspread and Fids hand settled in his hair again. It wasn’t pushing down this time but was instead running through the strands to help him relax.

Stan’s own large hands started to run up and down Ford’s back. He had felt the tension and, while it had felt rather amazing on his end, he didn’t want to hurt Ford. Every downstroke of his hands brought his hands down to his brother’s flank and every upstroke moved forward to stroke along his chest.

Ford started to bob his head on Fiddleford’s cock and he relaxed into the double penetration. He managed to reach back and find Stan’s hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

Stanley grinned and he moved his hands to Ford’s hips. He gave his brother one firm squeeze before he started to thrust. He groaned at the tight heat and he was soon moving faster and harder. He put a firm hand on Ford’s shoulder to keep his thrusts from choking him on Fids cock or causing Fids pain.

“Mmm…oh God...F-Ford…ngh, Stan…”

Stanley grinned as he listened to Fids. “H-How long have you had a twin thing?”

Fiddleford smirked and he tugged Ford’s hair to make him moan. “Oh…jest since the day you two showed up…”

Stan moaned softly and he bent over to Ford to better thrust into him. It was just to hot to think of Fiddleford pining over the both of them. Imagining them together. Imagining the _three_ of them together.

“Fuck, Ford. You and Fids…you’re so hot together,” Stan leaned forward and bit at Ford’s shoulder. “Now…Now you’re caught between both of us…”

Ford moaned and he threw his head back. “Stan! I’m close!”

“Yeah, Ford…come for me…” Stan reached around to wrap a hand around Ford’s cock. He was more focused on his thrusts into Ford that his hand barely moved. That seemed to be enough though.

“Stan!”

Ford trembled as he came and Stan had just a moment to see Fiddleford come on Ford’s face with a shout before he, too, came.

The three of them lay together in an exhausted heap for a few minutes. Stan was the first to move and he reluctantly peeled himself off Ford’s back so he could dispose of the condom. Ford rolled over and Fid reached for a tissue to wipe his face off.

“If that’s how its gonna be every time,” Stan started as he flopped back onto the bed, “I’m gonna be dead in a year.”

Ford snorted and Fids let out a little laugh. “Well we just won’t include you all the time. You can watch.”

Stan pinched Ford’s ass and his twin let out a yelp and swatted at his hand.


	4. Final Breath

“This is so cool!” Mabel cheered as “Chaos Theory” came to an end. “Who else can say their Grunkles are rock stars?”

“Used to be rock stars, sweetie,” Ford said with a little laugh.

“Still, I don’t think anyone else in our class could say it,” Dipper murmured with a little smile. He picked up “Final Breath” and looked over the back of the album. He got ready to put it on the player when he paused. “Hey…”

Stan and Ford looked at each and swallowed hard.

“There’s extra names on here for drums and bass.” Dipper looked up at the older two with a frown. “…Did something happen?”

“Ah, well…” Stan started as Ford took the record and put it on the player. “We…We had a falling out…” he admitted.

“What?” Mabel asked loudly. “What happened? What did you two do?”

Ford set the needle down and sighed. “In hindsight, it was-”

“Stupid.”

“…Immature.”

 

With Ford and Fids both finally done at Backupsmore, their manager at Full Moon Records persuaded them to accept an apartment up in New York. They were making money from sales and tours and it was paid for. And it gave them privacy for their relationship.

They used one of the bedrooms for a music room and another to put all of their research (nerd supplies as Stan put it). That left the three of them to share a King-sized bed in the last bedroom. It was rather tempting to spend most of their time in there but they had songs to write and Ford and Fids were still doing research and applying for grants.

The trio had been going to a few rehearsals in the studio but they were now ready to start recording some songs. Fids had gone on first to set up and Stan was grabbing last minute items from their apartment. He was on his way to the door when he realized that Ford was still holed up somewhere inside.

“Ford? Ford! Where are ya? We gotta go!”

Nothing. Stan huffed and made his way back through the apartment to find his brother. He probably got caught up in something nerdy. Or with his letter writing.

Stan found Ford in the research room and he knocked on the door. Ford was surrounded by books and maps and notes and started out of his frantic reading. Stan frowned a little as Ford looked at him but he smiled and gestured over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Come on, Poindexter. We gotta get going. We got an album to work on.”

Ford blinked and nodded. “Album. Right. Sorry, I lost track of time. Let me just get this put up and we’ll head over.”

Stanley sighed and stalked over to his brother. “What the hell have you been reading? I’ve seen you get twelve Ph. D’s and you’re rarely this bad.”

“Hmm? Oh, just, uh…some things about anomalies,” Ford murmured as he covered up maps and tried to shove his books into his desk.

Stan frowned and shoved his hand into the drawer Ford was trying to close to pull out a book. “Anomalies? This what you and Fids research in here?”

“Mostly me.” Ford pointed with his left hand to his right and wiggled his fingers. “Considering.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got that.” Stan passed the book back to his brother and uncovered one of the maps. He noticed the places that were marked and his eyes narrowed. “…These are our tour stops…The ones you talked us into adding…”

“I just thought we could use more-”

“You snuck off while we were there! Where were you going? You realize your sneaking off made us late to our next stops, right? What the hell got you so inv-Oh my god, you were investigating anomalies, weren’t you?”

Ford swallowed and shrugged. “Well…maybe, sort of…I heard of a few and just thought-”

“That I should sneak around and inconvenience everyone? I mean, what the hell, Ford? I know you’re a giant nerd. If I had known you’d need extra time in these stops, I probably could’ve worked on persuading our manager to push back the next dates.” Stanley huffed and covered the map back up. “Sometimes you gotta rely on others, Ford.”

“This is my area of expertise, Stanley. I’m the only one who really gets it. It’s what I do,” Ford countered, just as huffy as his brother.

“Ford, you got twelve Ph. Ds. I don’t think you really know what you want to do. But right now, we got band stuff to do. That’s what’s important right now. It’s what’s making us money.” Stan started towards the door.

“Is money all you care about? Like Dad?”

Stan paused and he turned to glare at Ford. “Really, Ford? Do you really think this is where I thought I’d be? Yeah, it’s cool but this is certainly not my dream. Despite what you and Dad thought, I did have dreams and goals. I had a dream of us going off together but the goal was you doing your science-y shit and I’d be a pro boxer.”

Ford snorted. “Right. A pro boxer from Glass Shard Beach,” he muttered.

“Oh fuck you. What? Like an astrophysicist from Glass Shard Beach makes any more sense? I would have made it if it weren’t for that rotator cuff tear in my left shoulder. So instead, what did I do? I went with _you_. Supported your dream. And found something else I was good at besides boxing. And, hey, it just so happens to make us money. If you don’t want to be a part of it anymore,” Stanley gestured to the door of the room, “You can go focus on your research!”

“Stan-”

“No, don’t try to tell me about how we could make both work! You didn’t trust me enough to let me help you with a plan before. We obviously don’t need one now.”

Ford got to his feet. “Stanley-”

Stan was already heading out of the room and back to the front door. He picked up the last-minute items he had left by the front door and slammed it shut behind him. He got into his car and gunned it down the street.

He was still upset with his brother when he made it to the studio. He dragged the stuff inside and flopped down into a chair next to Fids.

The other man was checking the tuning on his bass and looked up at Stan. When he realized that it was just Stan, he frowned and glanced around. “Where’s Ford? He’s gonna be late…”

“He ain’t showing up,” Stan huffed. “He’s going to go research anomalies.”

Fids stiffened and Stan snorted out a derisive laugh. “Oh of course. You knew he was doing that. Neither of you thought to tell me? See if I’d have any ideas? Christ. Go help him, then. Ford’s head tends to get so far up his ass he’ll think he’s living in a cave.”

“Stan are you-”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Stan looked up at Fids and there was a bit of fear in his eyes. He was going to be alone. Again. But he more than that he just felt this righteous anger at the situation.

Fiddleford slung his bass over his back and got to his feet. He had enjoyed this even if it had nothing to do with his degrees. But Stan was right in that Ford shouldn’t go on his own. And it seemed that Ford didn’t want to let Stan into that world just yet. He gave Stan’s shoulder a firm squeeze before he left to head back to the apartment.

Stan sat alone for a few minutes before the door opened. Their manager walked in, oblivious to the missing members for a few moments.

“Okay, here we go. New album jam session. Hopefully we’ll get some recordings going and-” He looked at Stan and blinked. “What the hell? Where are the other two?”

“Not here. They quit.” Stan strummed his guitar. “Just me.”

“WHAT?! Oh my God, I have no band! The album’s already been contracted with the label! What the hell am I going to do?!”

Stanley watched the mini-meltdown with disgust and he finally managed to grab ahold of his manager and get him to focus. “I can get you your album. Just find me a bassist and a drummer that are fast learners.” He pushed him back and took his guitar into the recording booth.

“…And if I do and we get an album? What then?”

Stanley sat down on his stool and looked at the two-way mirror. With the booth so brightly lit, he ended up staring at his own reflection. “We sell the album. We tour. And then R.E. 202 is done. Give me half of my cut and I’ll never bother you again.”

“And the rest of the money?”

“Send Fiddleford’s to his family like he was doing. Send Ford’s to our family. Ma could use it more than either of us do right now. Keep whatever’s left of mine. Now, go find me some new bandmates.”

 

A bassist and a drummer were found within the week. They were backup players for another band at Full Moon Records. They were eager for a chance to play a full-time gig but Stan was very blunt and curt about this album and what he expected out of it. It wasn’t for fun and it wasn’t going to be pretty. Not after he left the studio a few days before and realized that, in the time he and the manger had debated and practiced, Ford and Fids had cleared everything of theirs out.

The first song to come out for the album was all of his anger and frustration. Why didn’t Ford just tell him? Why couldn’t his brother ask him? Why did he feel the need to keep hiding things from him? That hurt more than the possibility of them being split up had been.

His new bandmates just thought the song was a bit of nonsense and typical stuff for their genre.

“Suzie steamboat, you’re so fine/Grant the wish I wish tonight/Tinker tailor, whatcha' got?/Wheels on the bus are falling off/Pretty maids all in a row/Yes, sir, yes, sir three bags full/Silver spoon at supper time/Four and twenty blackbirds, oh, so high…”

The lyrics for the verses were rather childish but that was the point of Stan’s anger with his brother. Every time they fought it was childish and he had been so sure they were doing better than when they were seventeen.

“Oh, it must be nice/To spend each day in paradise/You wonder why you’ve never failed/Your life’s a goddamn fairy tale/Your life’s a goddamn fairy tale…”

Stan really hoped that Ford would bother to buy the album.

 

The apartment was pretty suddenly full of alcohol. Stan had always been the heavier drinker out of the three but this was a new level. He had moments of drinking himself into a stupor and letting the apartment get cluttered and dirty. But then there were times he would merely have a beer or two throughout the day and try to get everything back on track.

It was on one of those days of light drinking that he decided to really clean the apartment. He went back into rooms he had left closed for weeks. In what had been Ford and Fid’s research room, Stan found stray papers in the closet that had been left in the rush to clear out. He expected them to be spare research papers but the first paper revealed itself to be part of a song.

In Ford’s handwriting.

Stan was sure he had just been punched in the gut. He sunk down the wall and stared at the writing. This wasn’t just composing his drum line or collaborating with Fids. This was lyrics. This was Ford’s thoughts.

Stanley barely made it through the whole song. Tears had gathered and were soon blurring his vision. He knew, though, that he couldn’t let this song remain this work in progress now that he was aware of it. It demanded to be sung.

Stan stumbled to the kitchen and set the papers down on the counter. He grabbed two beers from the fridge and downed them. He didn’t move until he was quite sure that he was very buzzed. In that mood, he felt it was safe to go back and keep cleaning.

Until he found one of Fid’s sweaters.

His alcohol addled brain told him it would be a good idea to put it on a pillow and then rut against it.

 

It took nearly three months for Stan and his new band to work out the song he had found. He was so picky about how it should sound and be handled. He was still sure that it was imperfect when they recorded it but he was confident they had done well.

Stan was terrified of Ford buying the new album.

A tour was starting to be pieced together but Stan didn’t get into it. He didn’t care where they went or who they performed for. He was ready for this to be over.

The nights of heavy drinking continued but the reason had changed. Now it wasn’t to fuel his anger and forget about his brother and Fiddleford. Now it was make him forget how much of an ass he had been in that fight. A little digging had brought up a Stanford Pines in Oregon with a number and each night he got drunk and called. He never said a word through. The first sound of his brother’s voice and he slammed the phone down.

Stan had never been good with words when it was face-to-face (or apparently phone-to-phone) but he found he could find his voice with his songwriting. When his mind wouldn’t let him apologize or confess love to a person, his hands could compose those thoughts.

So it was only a matter of time before Stan started an apology song.

 

Ford had gotten a cheap, used car when he and Fids decided to leave. Fiddleford was left to grab their stuff while he went to get it and as soon as it pulled up to the apartment they loaded up and left. Ford put them on the newly built Interstate Highway and drove with a lead foot for as long as he could.

Ford hated when him and Stanley fought. They had always been so close, each one half of great team, that their fights could be counted on to be explosive. This one was no different. Except that Ford wasn’t going to give in. If going off on his own would show Stanley that he wasn’t a pushover that had to be protected then so be it.

They got to Gravity Falls the next night. Fiddleford shook Ford’s shoulder to wake him as they rolled into town.

“This it?”

Ford took a deep breath and nodded. “This is it.”

 

Ford was enjoying Gravity Falls. It was everything he hoped and more. There were so many interesting creatures and happenings. He and Fids got a house built so they had a more permanent base to work from.

Fiddleford did his best to not bring up Stanley. He hated that the two had just separated like that. It was far from right. When the phone calls started, Fids had an immediate idea of who it was even though Ford didn’t. He started to make a habit of sending a letter every few weeks to keep Stan informed. He didn’t receive any back and had no idea if the other Pines twin was actually reading them.

One evening near the end of January, Ford offered the idea that they go to the nearby city to go get some parts. They usually just ordered them in but they had been stuck inside for days from a snowstorm. They were both due to get out.

While there, Fids suggested they stop at a superstore to pick up some groceries. It took some wheedling but, with the reminder that the larger store would carry Ford’s favorite treat, he managed to convince him to make an extra stop. It was there, with a basket full of normal domestic items, that they saw it.

“Final Breath.”

Ford froze and stared at the album display. Fids swallowed hard and reached out to pick one up.

“…We’re still credited,” he said softly, “Not sure why.” Ford was still silent while Fiddleford looked over the song list. “Hmm…it looks like there’s a message in here. “Must be Nice?” That can’t be good.”

“Stanley’s always quick with his anger,” Ford murmured.

Fids snorted. “Understatement. Most of these look pretty standard…”Home” sounds like another emotion song from Stan. “After the Rain” just…that doesn’t sound like Stan.”

“Wait, what was that title?” Ford asked, leaning over Fiddleford’s shoulder.

“After the Rain.”

Ford stiffened for a moment before he relaxed and turned back to their cart. “Get it. I’m sure he intended us to hear it.”

The hour drive back was silent and tense. Fiddleford suggested when they got back that Ford take their new equipment down to the lab and he would put the groceries away and make dinner. He wanted nothing more than to pull the other man to him and comfort him but he had learned quickly that sometimes Ford had to take time to himself.

Fids set the album in the living room by their record player for later and went into the kitchen to get started on dinner. He had no idea how long Ford would take so he decided to make a more time-consuming recipe. He hummed to himself as he whipped up his family’s barbecue sauce recipe while the pieces of chicken baked in the oven.

The smell of dinner nearly two hours later enticed Ford back upstairs. He moved a bit like a zombie as he came into the kitchen and settled at the little table.

Fids turned around to finish setting the food on the table and started a bit at the sudden appearance of Ford. “Hey,” he said softly. “Thought I’d make some comfort food.”

“Mmm. Smells good,” Ford murmured.

Fiddleford smiled softly. He poured them both glasses of sweet tea and sat down. Their dinner was quieter than usual but Ford was starting to get to his usual self again.

“Dishes?” Ford asked as he helped to clear the table.

“The pans are already washed, the rest can jest soak. Let’s go ahead and give that album a listen,” Fiddleford suggested.

Ford took a deep breath and nodded.

They settled on the sofa about five minutes later. Ford laid back against Fids chest and closed his eyes as the music started. Fiddleford ran his fingers through Ford’s hair.

At least until the chorus of “Must be Nice”.

Ford nearly leaped off the sofa to smash the album and Fiddleford had to wrap himself around him like a koala to keep him from doing anything in anger. Ford slowly settled down as random songs started though he was still muttering profanities about his brother.

“Home” finally started and Ford perked up a bit as he listened.

“Lying awake, did it again for Christ's sake/Shoulda told her to go, and I know it/But she tasted like home/Yeah, she tasted like home/I did what I did, can't say "hey man, I'm just a kid."/Saw the lie in my eyes, couldn't hide it/Cause she tasted like home/Yeah, she tasted like home…”

It seemed Stan added a bit of a story to make it blend in with their usual audience but Ford and Fids could both recognize their life in it.

“The pain in my heart's 'cause we're a thousand miles apart/I've got no one to blame for the shame/'Cause she's waiting back home/I hope she's waiting back home/Stupid to think that I could blame it on the drink/Now I'm trying to stall, making calls to someone back home/I hope there's someone back home…”

“The phone calls…” Ford murmured.

“Oh/Well, home ain't what I'd call it/When I'm the only ghost walkin' through the hallways/The pain gets so much clearer/When the one to blame is standing in the mirror/This fool, this liar/Lit a match and set his life on fire/I guess I'd rather be alone, in a house that's not a home..”

Fiddleford swallowed hard and pressed his forehead to the back of Ford’s head. “What has he been doin’ back in New York…?”

“I walk through the door and there's no light on anymore/Must have known all along I was wrong/Cause there's no one at home/No one's waiting back home…”

Ford and Fids sat in silence as the song wound down. The song after it, and the last on the album, was “After the Rain”. The title had gotten Ford’s attention the moment Fids read it and his thoughts had gone right back to that song he had created. Surely Stan hadn’t found it. But…if he had…it would sound good after “Home”.

“All your life, scramble and scurry/Take your time, rather than hurry/Never too late to write the best of your story/Remember to breathe or else you're gonna be sorry/Life's no race, it's a companion/Always face with reckless abandon/The ticket to life as my mother once told me/Stick with your pride and you're gonna be lonely…”

Ford snorted softly. “He found that song,” he murmured. “Thought I told you to grab all the papers from our research room.”

Fiddleford smiled softly and shrugged. “Thought I did.”

“Everybody says that life takes patience/But nobody wants to wait/Everybody says we need salvation/But nobody wants to be saved/The light in the tunnel is just another runaway train/The blue skies we wait on/Are gonna have to come after the rain…”

As the song came to a close, Ford sat up and turned to look at Fids. He sighed before smiling softly. “Okay, first I think you left that song on purpose. Thanks for that. I think. Secondly, I do think he wanted us to hear it. To make amends.”

“I do too. We should call him.”

“No, they’re on tour. I don’t want our manager to end up answering.” Ford made a face. “Besides, Stan’s making money and I’m sure he’s sending it on to our families like we were doing. If we call him, he’ll get distracted and likely stop.”

“If you’re sure,” Fiddleford said softly.

Ford smiled and nodded. He leaned forward and kissed Fids softly. He had no idea that in just a few short weeks he would find the Bill Cipher inscription and go down a rabbit hole of paranoia.

 

Dipper and Mabel looked up at Stan and Ford. There was a beat of silence before Mabel grinned wide. “That was awesome!” Dipper smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, it still sounded like the same group! Grunkle Stan, you did good at making new people play the same.”

Stanley’s mouth quirked for a second into a small smile. “Eh, that wasn’t the hard part. It can be surprisingly easy to mimic someone’s playing style.”

“What was the hard part?” Ford asked softly.

Stan looked at his brother and swallowed hard. “Trying to go on without you and Fids,” he murmured.

Mabel gushed and quickly pulled both of her grunkles into a hug. “Aww! You two!”

“Okay, okay,” Stan said brusquely, though he did hug Mabel firmly, “We still gotta clean the shack. And, if we get it done before dinner time, I’ll take all of ya to the diner instead of making more Stancakes.”

Dipper and Mabel grinned and hurriedly ran off to collect more stuff to put away.

Ford gently placed his hand on Stan’s shoulder. “Hey…Fiddleford told me he sent you letters. Ever get them?”

Stan made a soft noise and nodded. “Yeah…I got them but I think I only read one. I couldn’t do it at the time.”

“Understandable.” Ford smiled softly and kissed his brother’s cheek. “…I could set this song on fire…”

Stanley let out a soft laugh and turned to hug Ford tightly. “I love you too, Sixer.”


End file.
